


In Sickness and in Health

by tprillahfiction



Category: Star Trek: Alternate Original Series (Movies)
Genre: Fluff, K/S Advent, M/M
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2013-12-17
Updated: 2013-12-17
Packaged: 2018-01-04 22:51:15
Rating: General Audiences
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 4,960
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/1086597
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/tprillahfiction/pseuds/tprillahfiction
Summary: <blockquote class="userstuff">
              <p>Jim wants to propose on Christmas Eve, but Spock becomes very ill.<br/>Written for K/S Advent 2013</p><p>Warning:  A little fluffier than I wanted it to be.  And Spock cries a lot in this.  OOC 'ness due to illness.  Made up medical situations.  Mention of bodily functions.  No sex at all.  (I know, I know.)</p><p>Beta: Ivycross, all errors are my own.</p>
            </blockquote>





	In Sickness and in Health

IN SICKNESS AND IN HEALTH

“Bones,” Jim says, in the doctor’s office, “check this out.”

The doctor takes a quick swig of his Saurian Brandy as Jim Kirk slides out a small red velvet box.

“You were carrying that thing around in your pocket?” Bones asks.

“Yeah.”

“Didn’t that look a little...ya know, creepy?”

“Creepy?”

“Square looking bulge in your pants.  I’m sure the rest of the crew noticed.”

“Don’t care,” Kirk says, entirely unconcerned.  “Here,” he hands it over, saying proudly: “take a look.”

Bones sighs, taking the box from him, opening it up.  He whistles when he sees it.  It looks to be a platinum band resting on white velvet.  “God, Jim--”

Jim beams from ear to ear.  “Yeah.”

“Wow, this is so sudden!  Really really?  You want me to marry you?  God! I don’t know what to say!  But the answer is no.  Marriage and I don’t go together, no matter how sexy you find my ass.”

Jim frowns as he snatches it back from the CMO, snapping the lid shut.  “I don’t find your ass attractive.”

“Of course you do, Jim.  Nice and round and perky and--”

“Shut the hell up, will ya?  Goddamned jerk.”

McCoy’s eyes widen at that.  “Look Jim, I--”

“The ring is for Spock,” Jim informs the man.  “I’m going to propose to him.”

“I know it’s for Spock.” Bones breaks out into a small smile.  “Since he’s your boyfriend that would be obvious.  I was only pulling your chain, man, relax.”

“Okay, then.  I’m relaxed.”

“Well, Captain, I’ve noticed you’ve certainly lost your sense of humor since you've been knocking boots with that pointy eared computer--” Bones notes the captain scowling at him again and halts.  “How long you two been together?”

“Two years now.”

“Seems like an eternity.”

“With all the life or death situations we’ve been through together, it certainly seems like it.”

They say no more about that but both nod solemnly at the same time.

In the silence, Bones takes another long sip of his brandy.  “Jim.”

“Yeah?”

“Are you out of your corn fed mind?”

“Huh?”

“I mean, have you completely thought this through?”

“Sure I have.”

“Have you discussed this with him?”

“Well, no,” Jim has to admit.  “I wanted to surprise him.  Completely.  I mean, he feels the same about me as I do about him.  I’m sure of it.  We’re crazy about each other.  It’s the right time.”

“I dunno, Jim.  You’re kind of the master of impulsive behavior--the _captain_ of impulsive behavior, more like, so you know, marriage....” Bones motions into the air.  “It’s a huge, huge step.”

“I know that.”

“But are you absolutely sure?  You have to be damned sure--don’t want to wind up like me--”

“Spock and I aren’t going to wind up like you and your ex-wife, Bones.”

“Says you, right now.  Who knows what could happen, a few years along the line?"

Jim loudly clears his throat, changing the subject.  “Christmas shore leave is coming up.”

“I know.  Wrigley’s Pleasure Planet, again this year?”

“Looks like it.  Closest planet that’s adequate for our needs.”

Bones chuckles.  “More than adequate,” then he sobers, “‘cept it ain’t Earth, and we’re not close enough to even take a shuttlecraft home.”

“I’m sorry, Bones.  We’ll have to make the best of it.”

Bones takes another sip of the Brandy.  “Well, those strippers will help me forget Earth.  For a little while at least.”

Jim smiles a little.  “I wouldn’t know, Bones.”

“Oh you wouldn’t, now?”

“I’ve been good boy since Spock and I got together.  Really.  Nobody else has remotely interested me since.”

“You must really love him, Jim.”

“I do, Bones.”

“So, when do you plan on proposing?”

“Christmas Eve.”

“Christmas Eve?  One of most cliche dates ever to get engaged?  I don't know which is more cliche', Christmas Eve or Christmas Day!”

Jim shrugs.  "So?"

“Where are you planning to do this?” McCoy wants to know.

“Down on Wrigley’s.  I’m gonna need your help though, to pull this off.  I want a romantic proposal, but I don’t know where to start.”

Bones thinks about it a moment.  He claps his hands.  “You could start out with a candlelight supper, there’s a great restaurant by Green River, right on the bank.  Place is owned by Earth folks, all decorated up for Christmas, candles everywhere, stunning.  That might work.  Then you could take a stroll, look at christmas lights.  On Wrigley’s decorated houses are hugely popular, more so than Earth.  There’s a bay--oh you could take a gondola ride on the bay!  You could ask him there!”

“Hey,” Jim says, those blue eyes sparking.  “If I propose on Christmas Eve...we could get married on Christmas!  One of those romantic little chapels.  How about that, Bones?  You gonna stand up for me?”

“Sure.  If he agrees to the engagement, Jim.  You don’t even know what his answer will be.”

“It will be ‘yes’.  Definitely.”

McCoy sighs.  “Whatever you say, Jim.”

The bosun’s whistle sounds.  Kirk reaches over to answer the call.  “Kirk here.”

“Scott here, in transporter room A, Sir.  You asked me to contact you when Mr. Spock was ready to beam back aboard ship.”

“Thank you, Mr. Scott, I shall be down there to welcome the first officer back aboard, shortly.  Kirk out.”  Jim waves his hand over the intercomn, closing the channel.  

 *

Something’s amiss, Jim notes. 

The Vulcan steps off the platform to greet him and granted, he seems happy to see Jim again--well at least the body language reflects it if the first officer didn’t actually say so verbally. 

But there’s something about the eyes, those sad dark orbs seem even more downtrodden and puppy dog like than usual.  There's deep sadness, almost neediness or despair staring back at him.  There's dark pigmentation under them.  The eyes appear to have a sheen as if Spock is about to break down into tears or had already done so shortly before beam up.  Was there someone on the planet Spock didn’t want to leave?  Was he homesick?  Of course he would be sad to leave, it would be ridiculous to imagine otherwise, down there among his own people, hardly any left of them, having to leave them behind, would be devastating.  And of course, being reminded of his mother.   Spock’s cheeks and ears carry a slight green tinge to them, he seems thinner, his face hollowed.  Seems pale, almost.  Jim wonders if the guy hadn’t slept the entire week he was gone.  It was most likely tough going on the colony planet, Jim wanted to accompany him down to assist in any way he could, or send a party down, but Spock had insisted upon transporting alone.  Jim could have made it an order, to go along, but he’d decided to respect the Vulcan’s wishes.  

“Spock.” Jim’s voice is barely above a whisper as the Vulcan gets closer to him.  “Everything alright?”

“Everything is fine, Jim,” Spock replies back, equally softly.  

“I think you need to go straight to your quarters, get some rest.  I’m not even gonna--” he smirks.  “Never mind.  Come on.”

“Not so fast,” McCoy calls from behind him and Jim had forgotten the CMO had followed him into the transporter room.  The Type II scanner’s up and whirling making it’s usual noises.  

“Yes, Doctor?”

“Medical bay, for the post-dirtside physical, Mr. Spock.  You know the drill.”

“I assure you Dr. McCoy, it is unnecessary.  I am quite alright.”

Bones scowls at his scanner.  “When’s the last time you slept?  Ate?”

“I....” Spock hesitates.  

“Yeah, thought so.  You look like hell.  Like something the cat drug in.  Like shit.  Like you’d been ridden hard and put away wet, like--”

“Bones,” Jim hisses.  “Enough.  He’s simply tired.”

“He’s also showing a vitamin deficiency--which is going to be dealt with, stat.”

“Now, Dr. McCoy?” Spock raises an eyebrow.

Bones glances over at Jim and then back at the Vulcan.  “Yes, now, Mr. Spock.  Immediately.”

Spock seems to let out a huff in response. 

“The faster we get this taken care of, Mr. Spock,” Bones says.  “The faster you and Jim can uh...get some rest.”

*

Jim strides down the corridor, flanked by Spock and the doctor.  “Mr. Sulu,” he calls out, the computer automatically opening up a channel.  “Leave Nu-Vulcan’s orbit, ASAP.”

“ _Acknowledged, Captain_ ,” comes the reply from the bridge.  

“Plot in a direct course to Wrigley’s Pleasure Planet.  Our shoreleave will comense as soon as we reach orbit, culminating one week after Christmas.”

He can hear the smile in Sulu’s voice.  “ _Yes, Sir.  Implementing procedures now_.”

“Kirk out.”  To Spock he asks:  “How is your dad?”

“Father?” He is off planet.  On Earth.”

“Oh.  So you didn’t even get a chance to visit him.”

“Negative.”

“Oh.” Jim throws a glance over his shoulder to Bones.  “So how is the colony going?”

“Everything is operational, things are going well.  Remarkably well, due to the tutelage of the other Mr. Spock.”

“Well, that sounds promising.  And I’m sure you and the other Mr. Spock had a lot to talk about.”

Spock shrugs entirely too casually.  Jim narrows his eyes at that.  Odd.  Very odd.    

*

Spock is even more sullen than he usually seems when suffering the inconvenience of having to undergo a post beam down physical.  Jim stands watching, arms folded.  “Want me to hold your hand?” he jokes.

“Negative,” Spock replies, quickly, briefly closing his eyes, almost squeezing them shut before he re-opens them.

“Well.” McCoy bites on his cheek.  “Seems okay, these readings on the bed scanner are worrying me a little bit, but that’s due to the intense exhaustion, most likely.  I’ll just--prepare a hypo.  Nurse!  Ten CC’s of stolkaline, please.”

Jim wants to watch while Spock gets his vitamins, but his bladder’s bursting.  “I’ll be right back,” he tells the first officer sweetly.  Spock seems to ignore him.

Jim slinks off to pee in the closest toilet.  As he’s decon’ing his hands he hears McCoy shout:  “Goddammit!  Nurse!”

He rushes out to find McCoy holding up an unconscious Spock.

“What did you do to him?!”

Bones scowls at him, still holding Spock.  “He passed out.  Help me get him on the bed.”

The bed scanner doesn’t look good.  Even Jim recognizes the readings of a very unwell Vulcan.  “Son of a Bitch,” McCoy snaps.  “Dammit.  Fucking hell.”

“What’s wrong with him?”

“Some kind of damned Vulcan influenza.”

“Vulcan flu?”

“Yeah,” Bones is engrossed in his patient, still cussing and swearing.

Spock blinks his eyes open.  They widen upon the realization that he's again laying on the biobed.

“Well,” McCoy says, arching an eyebrow.  “Look who’s back with us.”

“What happened?”

Bones glares and folds his arms.  “Do you have a sore throat?”

“Affirmative.”

“Does your body ache?  Head ache?”

“I had not noticed,” Spock replies.

“I’m gonna ask this question again.  Does your body ache?”

“Yes,” Spock finally admits but not before giving McCoy a venomous glance.

Jim wonders:  “Is Vulcan flu similar to human flu?  Is he going to die?”

Bones ignores the question, but with swift fingers, types up some information on his mediPADD.  He reads for a moment, then chuckles like a madman.  

“I have Vulcan Influenza?” Spock asks incredulously.

“Sure do.  Thought you’d try to sneak that by me, nice try,  Hobgoblin.”

Spock’s lips purse.  “I see.”  

“Ever had Vulcan flu before?”

“Yes, Doctor.   As a child.  Several times.”

“And you are aware of what does it do to you?”

“I prefer not to say.”

“What does Vulcan flu do to him?  What are the symptoms?” Jim asks.

“You heard the pointy eared menace.” McCoy tosses his mediPADD at Jim.  “Doesn’t want to say.”

Jim studies at the info on Bones’ PADD.  “Oh, Jesus.”

“Yep.”

“Good thing you have an anti-viral handy.”

“Nope.”  

“What do you mean, nope?”   Jim says.

“I don’t have a cure for this, Jim.  I don’t even have anything that will lessen the severity.  He’s gonna have to ride it out.  And it’s gonna be one hell of a ride.  I’ll tell ya that.”

“You’re shitting me, Bones!”

“I wish I was, Jim--and believe me, I’m sorry.  He’s gonna be stricken with this for the next two weeks.  I’m really sorry.”

“Well, maybe you should get cracking on finding a cure, Bones!”

“There is no cure for _influenza vulcanis_ , Jim!  It keeps mutating and mutating and mutating--”

“Bullshit!” Jim says.  “You’re the best Chief Medical Officer in the fleet, you have to find a cure--at least by....” he breaks off then studies his own hands, then back over at Spock.  The Vulcan’s eyes are glassy, he’s staring up at the ceiling. 

Suddenly Spock leans over and vomits, most of it landing on the deck, much of it splattering on Dr. McCoy’s tunic.  

“Oh,” Spock gasps out.

Bones immediately leaps over to the Vulcan’s aid, not caring that he’s covered in puke.  “It’s okay, it’s okay.”  He grabs a cloth and wipes Spock’s mouth.

Jim goes to the other side of the bed resting his hands on Spock.  The vulcan is shivering, alarmingly so.  He reaches over to pull a blanket over him.

“Jim,” Spock says in a scratchy voice,  “I would prefer it if you granted me some privacy.  Please.”

“Privacy?  What?  Spock, it’s me.”

“Jim,” McCoy says, rubbing Spock’s back, something Jim notes HE should be doing, he’s Spock’s partner for crying out loud, “maybe you could give him a little time, depending on how long it’s been incubating, the symptoms will come on suddenly.  And it’s gonna be bad.  Plus I need you to undergo a scan.”

“Why?”

“This nasty little thing can mutate into a human strain, since he’s half human--anybody he’s been in contact with, is gonna have to be cleared or quarantined.  That goes for Scotty too.  Scanner, Jim, please,” he motions for the nurse to take over the captain’s exam.  Jim reluctantly lays down on the bed, all the while watching his lover suffer increasing distress.  

“I am...I am...” Spock grounds out, “Going to be sick.”

Bones holds up a container for the occasion.  “Puke away, Mr. Spock.  I am ready.”

“Negative...I wish to use the toilet...I am....”

“What?  Tell me.”

“I need to use the toilet.”

“Let me help him,” Jim calls out.  “I’m fine.  Let me escort him to the head.”

“No...” Spock feebly protests.  “No....”

Bones snaps his fingers as he helps Spock up, grabbing onto an arm.  “Nurse!  Scan the captain, so he can be cleared outta here!”  

“He’s clear of the virus, Dr. McCoy.”

“Jim.”  McCoy points to the door, holding onto Spock.  “Git!  Now.  Med-bay is quarantined, this ward is, at least.”

“But what about--”

“Out!”

*

Scotty was also cleared of the virus so that squared away the enterprise crew, besides McCoy, Nurse Burke and Ensign Connors.  Connors annoyed the doctor to no end, so he cleared the ensign right out of the ward.  The quarantine window came down, the doors were sealed, nobody else could get in or out. 

McCoy had contacted Nu-Vulcan to alert the other Spock about Spock’s illness, since apparently that was the only other Vulcan Spock had had contact with the entire time he was down there.  

The other older Spock seemed fine, had not shown signs of the illness.  McCoy informed the esteemed Vulcan elder to get his “ass to an infirmary if he knew what was good for him.”

The other older Vulcan seemed to be amused at that.  “ _Acknowledged, Doctor_.”

“Let me know immediately if you exhibit any symptoms.  We can beam you up here, if need be.  “

“ _Negative Dr. McCoy, I appreciate the concern but that is quite unnecessary_.”

“I just don’t want you to infect the whole damned colony.”

 _“I will keep to myself, until I am cleared by a Vulcan healer_.”

"Fine.  McCoy out."

 _Influenza Vulcanis_ is in fact a children’s disease with much milder symptoms, but if an adult contracts it, it can be serious.  McCoy desperately hopes the older Spock has not contracted it, and wonders where their own Spock had picked it up and continues his interrogation of the Vulcan: “Who did you come into contact with while down there?  Anyone else?”  

Spock seems unable to recollect, but dammit it’s important.  Even though it appears to pain Spock to try to remember, McCoy keeps on interrogating him.  

Meanwhile he escorts Spock to the toilet, several times, to vomit and much to Spock’s absolute humiliation and dismay, go diarrhea.  He’s able to treat Spock for those symptoms, but only to lessen the severity, not entirely eradicate them. 

And Jim had been correct, the disease did mimic Human flu in many ways, but was worse than any Terran influenza save for many virulent strains of the disease.  He cleans Spock up, escorts him back to the bed, wraps him up, turns up the heat in the ward--before he sheds his own barfed on tunic.  

“I must apologize,” Spock says softly, his voice showing the obvious signs of illness.  

“Try not to talk so much,” McCoy replies gently.  “Just relax.  I’m gonna give you something so you can sleep.”  

“I must...apologize,” Spock insists again.  

McCoy gets the hypo ready.  “What for?”

“Vomiting on you.”

McCoy held up the hypo, checking it.  “Forget it.  You’re ill.  Think you’re the first person to barf on me?  I lost count how many times I’ve been thrown up on, bled on, pee’d on, shit on--”

“I did that too, I must apologize for--”

“For normal Vulcan flu symptoms?  Dealing with ill and injured patients is kinda my job.  And 99 point 99 percent of the time it ain’t pretty.”  He holds up the hypo, checking the dosage a second time.

“This is humiliating.”

“I know.  It’s one reason why I kicked Jim out of here.  I could see you blushing ten shades of emerald before my very eyes--of course you were flushed from the illness so it could have been that--”

Spock sighs mightily in response, then sniffles.  

“Want a tissue?” McCoy asks, glancing at Spock’s chart.

“No,” Spock says.  The sound of his voice is enough to make McCoy look up.  

Spock’s crying.  

Jesus.  Oh.  He must have been staring in open mouthed shock, because Spock explains:  “I am having difficultly... controlling my emotions.”   He blushes green in the ears for the millionth time since falling ill.

“The flu,” McCoy tries to reassure him.  Strong uncontrolled emotions is yet another _influenza vulcanis_ symptom.  Must be a nightmare for Spock.   And hopefully he won’t become violent.   He sets down the hypo, handing over a tissue.  Spock takes it from him, dabbing at his eyes.  

“Are you alright?” McCoy picks up the hypo checks the dosage for the third time.  

Spock says nothing.

As McCoy is about to plunge the hypo into the Vulcan’s arm, Spock suddenly breaks out in gut wrenching sobs.  Absolutely wracked with them.  

McCoy set the hypo down again, watching helplessly as the first officer is absolutely wracked with them.  He pats the first officer on the shoulder.  “Hey.  It’s alright.”

Spock gasps out in between sobs:  “I am in control of my emotions....” Try as he might, he cannot stop it.  “Control.”

“Just ride it.  You can’t control it.”

Spock’s clenching his eyes closed.  He brings his hand up to his face in some type of effort to force composure, but the illness isn’t having any of it.

McCoy touches him again.  “Come on.  Don’t tax yourself.  It’s okay, only me here to see it.”

Spock huffs still desperately trying to control his tears.

“Wish I could let Jim in here to sit with you,” McCoy says.  “He’s got a better bedside manner than I do.”

“No...” Spock shakes his head, sitting up on his elbows, the tears rolling down his face and it breaks McCoy’s heart to witness this.  “I cannot bear for Jim to see me in this way.”

“Yes, but.  You’re a couple.  I mean, you’ve already been sexually intimate, seen each other doing intimate things.  Sometimes intimacy isn’t so...sexy you know, sometimes it’s throwing up on someone, looking after them when they’re ill or injured--”

“He must not see me in this way.”

“Didn’t Uhura ever see you get sick?  You ever see her ill?”

“No.”

“Oh," McCoy says.  "Well, you’re right.  I can’t break the quarantine.  Much as I’m tempted to.  I just--” 

He slams the hypo into Spock’s arm.  “Night, night,  Spock.”  

*

“ _How is he, Bones_?” Jim’s voice on the intercomm wants to know.

“Oh, he’s resting.  Just gonna take some time to get over this.”

“ _Well, there goes all plans for Christmas_.”

“Unfortunately, yes.  Sure as hell ain’t lettin’ him down on Wrigley’s.  Hell, I can’t go.  So thank you very much.  I don’t get to play either.”

“ _Sorry, Bones_.”

“S’okay.  My job.  Doctor’s always having to miss out.  Never get to sit down and watch a whole football game.  Lucky if ever get to take a full leave.”

“ _When can I see him_?”

“Spock is still contagious, so not yet.”

“ _Dammit.  I miss him._ ”

“I know you do.”

“ _I went a whole week without him when he was down on Nu-Vulcan.  I missed him terribly.  I counted the days.   Now this_.”

*

A few days later, the fever breaks, the diarrhea completely halted--good thing because McCoy had just started fluids on him which was giving the pointy eared pain in the ass fits.  Spock still suffers from some bouts of nausea which McCoy had managed to tame with reflexology on the first officer’s bare feet--miraculously he’d allowed the doctor to perform that-- along with the chills and coughing and sneezing and McCoy still has to keep the ward super heated.  He’d dug up an ol’ miss tank top to wear which is a welcome relief in the heat.

Since it’s nearing Christmastime, McCoy had supplied the bored out of his skull first officer some viewing tapes of old Christmas and family style, nostalgic movies.  McCoy has to chuckle as he comes out of his office to find Spock watching: “It’s A Wonderful Life”.  The scene is on where George Bailey is crying in the bar, unbelievably, Spock is weeping along with him.  

Spock suddenly seems to notice McCoy and immediately blushes, shifting under the blanket he’s wrapped in.  

“A Vulcan bawling his head off at ‘It’s a Wonderful Life’, huh?” McCoy says out of the side of his mouth, sitting down on a chair and picking up Spock’s chart.  “We’ll now I can officially say, 'I’ve seen everything'.”

“The film is quite sad.”

McCoy watches along with him for a few moments.  “Yeah, it is in places.”

“I feel for him.  He is so unhappy.  So lonely.”  The way Spock says that, just kills McCoy.  Breaks his heart.

*

“ _How is he, Bones_?”

“Oh Christ, Jim, he’s crying at ‘It’s a Wonderful Life’.  Hell, that’s what Joss did when she was pregnant with JoAnna.”

“ _Crying?  Let me in there.  He can’t be contagious now_.”

“He still is, Jim, unfortunately and he will continue to be for another week.”

“ _In two days it’s gonna be Christmas for crying out loud_!”

“I know.”  McCoy finally admits:  “Listen.  He doesn’t want you to see him.”

“ _What do you mean_?”

McCoy hesitates.  "Spock's uh... severely emotionally compromised right now.”

“ _So_? _I’ve seen him emotionally compromised before_.”

“This is different.  He’s embarrassed about it.  He can’t stop crying.  I mean really crying.”

“ _I’ve seen him cry before.  When I was--_ ”

“You haven’t seen this.  He’s pretty damned vulnerable.”

“ _Why_?”

“The flu.”

“ _The flu causes this_?”

“You read the PADD.  Vulcan flu causes this,” Bones says, yawning into his fist.

*

With most of the ship’s complement down on Wrigley’s, it’s now Christmas Eve.  Nothing for him to do but fret.  Jim paces his quarters back and forth back and forth, by time time this is over with they’ll be a hole worn in the deck.  

He can’t stand it anymore.  He hits the intercomm switch.

“ _McCoy_ ,” the tired voice answers back.  

“How’s he doing?”

“ _The same_.”

“You must be climbing the walls in that med-bay, Bones.  Bet you’re getting lonely.  Nobody around but Spock and a nurse to keep you company.  Bet you’re ready to kill him.”

“ _Oh, Spock’s alright.  Been rubbing his feet_.”

Jim bristles at that.  “Have you?  Isn’t that a nurse’s job?”

“ _Nurse Burke is sleeping right now.  Rather than pumping him full of drugs--reflexology gets rid of the nausea.  And the physical touch seems to help with the crying.  Comforts him_.”

“Oh, okay.”

“ _What?  Jim?  What_?”

“I dunno, nothing.  Except I should be there with him.”

“ _Well, he’s doing the same since the last time you harassed me and I need another cup of strong coffee and a stimulant_.”

“When’s the last time you slept, Bones?”

“ _Dunno.  Few days_.”

“You’re gonna crash soon.”

“ _Yeah and when I’m about to do that, I’m calling M’Benga back from Wrigley’s_.”

“Why don’t you get some sleep, let me look after Spock for a few hours?  Bet you wish you could see that office couch.  I bet you fall asleep as soon as your head hits the pillow.”

“ _Nope_ ,” Bones says.  “ _Just gave myself another stimulant_.”

“Those things won’t last forever.”

“ _Just until Spock’s well again.  Or at least I can lift the quarantine_.”

“You could lift it now.  I won’t get sick.”

“ _Don’t be an infant, Jim_.”

*

Later that evening, McCoy goes to check on Spock and is satisfied to find the Vulcan watching ‘ _Scrooge_ ’ starring Albert Finney.  

“Well that’s a good version of ‘ _A Christmas Carol',_ ” McCoy notes, picking up Spock’s chart and scribbling on it with his stylus.  “I like the music.”

Spock barely acknowledges him, but continues to watch, tearing up at the part where Scrooge’s fiance leaves him because of his working so much.  “That is...so sad,” Spock says, the liquid rolling down his cheeks.  “Can he not see that his relationship with his fiance is what matters most?  How much she loves him?”

“Now he knows what he’s lost,” McCoy replies.  Scrooge isn’t the only one to have lost someone dear to him due to being a workaholic.  

“Jim,” Spock whispers.

McCoy reaches over to pat the vulcan on the shoulder.  “Why don’t you try eating some more soup for me?  If you need anything I’ll be in my office.”

*

McCoy finds his eyes getting heavy in his office and before he can do a thing about it, he’s out.

*

Jim creeps along the corridor.  He knows that he’s gonna get stopped at the door by Spock’s glorified bouncer--but dammit, maybe by forcing his way inside and exposing himself once again to Spock’s germs--Bones will cave in and let him stay.  Hell, Bones needs the rest too.  

He overrides the medical code--like this could really keep him out.

The door obediently slides open for him and he darts inside.

Damn, it’s like an oven in here.

Bones’ office is closest in the relatively darkened ward room.  There’s a light on in there--shit.  He sneaks up to the doorway and peers inside.

Bones is sitting at his desk, head down on his folded up arms, fast asleep.

Yes!  

Now to find Spock.

He makes his way into the darkened ward room.  There’s Spock who doesn’t see him yet.  Spock is watching a film on the monitor.  Tears are flowing down his cheeks.  

Aw....

He makes a beeline for Spock’s bed.  

Spock spots him and immediately smiles.  “Jim,” he croaks out.

“Baby,” Jim says, flabbergasted and pleasantly surprised at the smile and at the same time concerned for his lover.  “I’ve missed you so much.”

“I have missed you, also.”

Jim crawls into the bed next to the Vulcan.  He reaches over and dries those tears.  “It’s okay, I’m here.”

Spock snuggles in next to Jim, resting against him.  “I made an error, not wanting you to see me so ill, it was ridiculous for me to feel embarrassment, the need for you to hold me, to touch me, has made me see how wrong I am--that and ‘It’s a Wonderful Life’ and ‘Scrooge’.”

“There’s gonna be a lot of times when we see each other in a not so sexy light.  You’ve seen me injured a few times, remember those?  Sick?  Oh yeah.  Soon I’ll have my chance to show you how ill I can get.”

“I hope not.”

“And when Bones discovers us here together, he is gonna have my head on a platter.”

“You might contract my illness.”

“Yeah, so I cry a little and barf my head off.  It’s okay.  And when I do, I want you to take care of me.”

“If you are to become ill, due to me-- What if you need to command the ship?”

“We’re on leave right now.  And you’ll be well by then, and there’s Sulu and Chekov and Uhura and Scotty and--”

He breaks off to find Spock asleep in his arms.

He kisses his lover gently on the cheek.

Proposing could wait another time till Spock feels better and maybe it would be better to wait a little longer, for the next shore leave. 

But, right now he's just gonna enjoy this moment.

*

"McCoy snorts awake.  He glances over at the chrono.  Shit, he’s been asleep for hours!

He stumbles to the doorway and spies Jim and Spock curled up together like a couple of kittens.

He smiles, shakes his head and turns back to the office.

He goes to his couch, plonks down heavily on it, lays flat, using an abandoned clean tunic as a pillow.

As he nods off, tears begin to roll down his cheek.

_______________

 

END

Illustration by tprillahfiction:  "McCoy Spies Jim and Spock in Medical Bay"

 


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